“There is lamb’s wool under my naked feet…”
I look down and see that the floor is hardwood. I don’t think that the floor could have been hardwood in “reality,” but that’s apparently how I’m remembering it.
I look back up at the shelf to which the drone has led me, at the row of boxes there. G. I. Joes and Barbies are interspersed on the shelf, in a way they never would have been when I was a child. All of the boxes are brand new, and still sealed. Through the clear plastic window on the front of each box, I can see the figure inside—the doll; I called them dolls. Every doll that I can see is naked (and of course not anatomically correct; I am especially struck now by the absence of nipples, for who-knows-what reason).
The drone lifts her head, apparently having zoned out for a moment. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
“They’re lifeless, aren’t they?” I pause a moment and glance at her. “But not the packaging.”
She nods. “Indeed. Not what you expected, eh?”
I step closer, and see that some of them are missing limbs. One doll is missing her head.
“I don’t want any of these.” Duh.
She just nods again, and then she moves to her left a bit to reveal a sign on the wall that was behind her. She lifts a hand toward it briefly. “I believe that this is something I am supposed to call attention to before we proceed.”
The sign is white and rectangular, with large black lettering:
ALL LYRICS FROM THE LAMB LIES DOWN ON BROADWAY ARE COPYRIGHTED. THIS STORE DOES NOT PROFIT IN ANY WAY FROM ANY REFERENCE TO THEM, AND ONLY “FAIR USE” IS INTENDED, RATHER THAN ANY SORT OF COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT.
I can’t help smirking a bit. “Do you really think that’s going to cover anyone’s ass?”
“If the ass is above a certain size, then I suppose it will not.” Looking at the sign. Deadpan.
“As if one can’t find such copyrighted lyrics all over the web; here, for example.” I smile even wider at the thought that I’ve just said something out loud that contains a hyperlink.
The drone still looks totally unmoved. “May I show you anything else, ma’am?”
I think for a while. She waits patiently.
“Hot Wheels and…” Now why did I think of this? “…Matchbox cars?”
“Right this way.”